


Almost

by Littorella



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Be Careful What You Wish For, F/M, Family Drama, Mythology References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 06:25:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13094307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littorella/pseuds/Littorella
Summary: Plagued by the thought of Jane's mortality, Thor asks Loki for a solution. He should have known something would go wrong.A fairytale gone awry.





	1. Mortem

**Author's Note:**

> This is my try at writing something of a gothic fairytale and using a minimalist approach. Enjoy!

He watched as she slept, unable to look away.

The small rise of her chest with every breath, the gleam of moon reflected in her hair, the dust-like texture of her skin in darkness. Each detail whispered a haunting note in his ear.

Together, they screamed a deafening taunt he could not ignore.

She would die.

Far before he got his first gray hair.

Jane was mortal. Mortal like all others despite the singular specialness he felt sure she possessed.

He'd begged the Allfather to grant her a gift of life but he deemed her unworthy.

The thought of it sickened him, but it was all he could hear. Thor kept his eyes on Jane as she rolled over. Rusting from the sheets only served to elevate the panic in him.

She was worthy.

She was no mere mortal.

His mind wandered with the same speed at which his heart thundered.

Loki would know, ever clever Loki would surely have an answer.

But he would demand a great price.

Thor thought hard about what he was willing to give. His eyes traced the soft curve of her shoulder and he knew with a sting of guilt. It struck fear into his core knowing so. He would do terrible things for her. He would kill for her. And if it came to it, he would turn his back on his principles for her.

He would give anything.

 

*

 

Loki narrowed his eyes at his brother.

Such a predictable request, desperate in its neediness and pathetic sentiment.

He almost felt pity for him.

_Almost._

"There is a way..." he spoke slowly, hinting at its sinister reality but too subtle for Thor to notice.

Thor could not tell if his brother's downcast eyes were purposefully manipulating him.

"Then you must do it," the elder brother insisted with urgency.

"Must?" Loki laughed. "You cannot order me around, brother."

He spat out the last word like a bitter seed.

Thor scowled, his brow knitting together. He had been waiting for this, dreading the moment like a child dreads oncoming punishment. But it was an offer Loki could not refuse. He wanted too much to refuse.

"I will abdicate the throne if you give me this."

Eyes glistening, Loki took in his offer with vicious greed. "But that does not make me king. That is not enough."

Thor shook his head.

"And you will never be king if I do not."

Loki smirked as he circled Thor. "You surprise me, brother. Is she really worth so much to you?"

Ignoring him, Thor pressed, "Will you do it?"

"What you ask is of great difficulty."

"Will you do it?"

Loki extended a hand, his lips curling into a cold smile.

Thor shook it with a distinct feeling of unease, like he'd made an unfair bargain. But this was for Jane, he told himself, no bargain for her could be unfair.

 

*

 

"Why do you keep it from me? I will kill you if you have lied," Thor shouted.

"It will not work if you meddle," Loki replied easily.

Thor paced, his steps growing impatient as he stomped each one.

"Why?"

"Because the choice is hers." He pushed his dark hair from his face and leaned back in his armchair, refusing to give Thor the satisfaction of pushing him around.

"Choice?" Thor asked, puzzled by the word as though it had fallen into them from someone else's irrelevant conversation.

Loki held his tongue for a moment. He liked the way pauses added to the gravitas of his answers.

"Don't tell me you did not ask if she wanted this?"

"I know what she wants!" Thor threw back immediately.

He steeled his shoulders to hide the doubt which crept through him like an infection.

"You are certain?"

Thor hesitated, his hands wringing the fabric of his blood red cape.

Loki chuckled at his inability to respond. "Well, it matter not. The choice is still hers alone. Do not try to speak to her; it is too late. If you are right, she will become immortal. If you are wrong, she will die just the same as she will now."

"You will not touch her." He commanded.

"I won't have to."

Weary of his brother's tricks, Thor inquired further.

"How will I know if it has worked?"

"Time will tell."

The prince gritted his teeth. "Then time will tell if I hold up my end."

 

*

 

A woman sat beneath the golden tree, her ash-colored hair braided into one long rope hanging down her back.

Were it not for the fact that her features were slightly too large for her face, she might have been beautiful.

In one hand, she clutched an empty wicker basket, patiently waiting to be filled.

When she rested, she looked upwards at the tree periodically, peering at its golden fruit.

The garden was her life and reason, but also her prison.

"Idunn," he called to her from behind a pillar.

The woman turned abruptly. She gasped as she caught his face and glanced around for guards.

"You are not allowed to be here," Idunn lectured sternly as she ran over to him.

Loki tilted his face down to give her a sly look.

"What do you want?" she asked harshly.

"Merely to retrieve that favor you owe me. I require a golden apple."

Idunn fidgeted with her basket, her face stricken with regret and displeasure.

She stalled, looking every direction except his.

Sensing her unwillingness, Loki grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. "Do not forget that I can tell all of Asgard of your shameful indiscretions with that beast. I lied for you, but I can just as easily break you," he hissed into her ear.

She winced from the pain.

"You will give me a golden apple, and you will do it by next dawn." He released her roughly, throwing her to the ground.

Idunn held her arm and gazed up at him with deep resentment.

Loki tugged on his sleeves at though touching her had soiled his garments.

"Who is it for?" Her voice quivered

He looked down at her frail figure on the ground with disdain.

"A mere mortal," Loki replied lightly.

"No mortal would choose this."

Loki feigned a warm smile-the type of expression which cut with unkindness.

"She will, Idunn; people will do anything for love. You should know."

She shook her head and spat, "You are a monster to sully love with deceit."

He turned and left her on the ground with his last words.

"And love is for the witless who deserve to be exploited."

 

*

 

Jane walked through tall, flaxen grass.

The willowy blades cut at her bare legs, scraping the edges of her dress with snipping sounds.

Fields of grass stretched to the horizon, an endless sea.

Where was this anyway? It was reality without consciousness, a feeling more than a place-like the thought of sun on a cold winter day. Having no recollection of how she arrived or how she would leave, Jane furrowed her brow, searching for direction.

There was light, but no sun. Impossible.

"But it is possible," someone explained into her ear.

Jane jerked her head to the sound.

"You."

Her tone was colored with impatience, confusion, fear, accusation not yet dulled by time.

"In the flesh."

His image wavered as he took her hand, causing her to gasp in surprise.

"Are you here to hurt me?" she asked coldly, wondering if she ought to run.

Loki smirked at her childish distrust and placed an ironic kiss on her hand.

The grass shook, as though it felt her revulsion. Dissociation between her heart and hand kept her from pulling away.

"Contrary, my brother has begged me to give you a gift."

"Thor?" She did not believe him. Thor was not a begging sort of man.

"Yes." He let her go. "And it is paid for with a great and terrible price."

Jane held her hand to her chest as though it were injured. Her watchful eyes never left him.

He held out his gift to her: a single golden apple in the curve of his palm.

"What is it?" She eyed the apple with suspicion.

"An apple from the tree of wisdom. Eat this and you shall have eternal life. You could be with him forever. You could spare him the grief of your death."

It glistened in the light, its skin fine with the gleam of morning dew and the richness of decadent jewels. A kind of richness that satisfied in the moment but left one starving immediately after. Jane felt her hand reach for it and forcefully stopped herself.

She refused and shook her head.

"How do I know you're not lying? How do I know it won't harm me?"

He opened his mouth to speak but paused, knowing the way to her answer was to imply not insist.

"The truth is that you will never know. But you must understand: you are nothing to me, mortal. My interest in you is comparable to my interest in an ant crossing my path. Do not presume that I think of you enough to even wish you ill. I am only here at my brother's request."

"Am I to feel reassured or offended by that?" She felt offended.

"Which ever you prefer," he replied, amused.

Jane reached for the apple again. She swallowed, hesitating but wanting-wanting so much to take it but not daring.

"I don't know. I need time to think about it." It didn't seem right.

He laughed silently.

"But you've already decided, Jane."

She widened her eyes at him.

"I-" Jane stopped.

The apple called to her with a shrill ringing.

"A pity," he took the apple back, "I suppose it is for another."

"Wait!" she shouted, immediately regretting her hesitation.

"I want it."

Loki held it out for her, watching with delight as as her small hands wrapped around the fruit.

It was too easy.

 

*

 

Jane bit her lip and took the apple from him. It felt warm to the touch, heavier than an apple should be.

"Is this real? It feels like a dream." She turned back to him.

"Are dreams not real?" he challenged.

Bringing the apple to her lips, she closed her eyes and sank her teeth into its golden skin.

Bitter.

It was bitter, metallic, warm.

Jane grimaced as she swallowed the offensive fruit.

She opened her eyes and looked at her hands with horror.

It was a dark velvety red inside the bite mark, like blood. Suddenly all she could taste in her mouth was blood. Blood and ashes, and the bitter salt of flesh.

Loki was laughing.

The inside of the golden apple seemed beat like a heart. Blood poured from the hole over her pale skin. Dropping the fruit, Jane backed away from him.

"Is this one of your cruel tricks?"

"Oh, no, dear Jane," he replied, still amused, "To gain life, one must take it. Did you think it would be sweet?"

She felt her stomach churn.

"The tree of wisdom did not grow from a seed. It grew from the left eye of the Norn Skuld when her sister stole and buried it on Asgard. It bleeds like you and I. When you consume its apples, you consume her godly flesh."

"You're making it all up. This isn't real."

Jane pinched herself.

"Welcome to eternity, Jane."

Turning without warning, she ran as fast as her bare feet could move.

"This isn't real."

He let her run.

Tripping on the long grass, she felt the sharp blades cutting her knees.

They bled and healed into unmarred skin before her eyes.

Lying in the grass, all she could see was light.

Golden and bright, everywhere.


	2. Anima

Jane awoke with a gasp to bright morning light alone.

Her lungs sucked in air as though she were drowning.

Gold surrounded her like a gray fog that rolled out of reach every time she reached and followed every time she ran.

She struggled to cover her eyes, knocking over a vase on the nightstand.

Jerked awake by the shattering, she threw off her covers and swung her feet over the bed, stepping on a shard of broken glass. Hissing in pain, she held up her foot to look at the wound.

Blood retreated into skin and push the glass out, undoing the damage on its own. If it were not for the pain, Jane would have thought it hadn't happened at all.

Taking a sharp edged piece of glass, she cut her arm and watched the cut knit itself back together.

She did it again and again and each time her wounds forgave her.

When she stopped, she searched for Thor, finally noticing the hush static of the shower.

Jane went to him, interrupting his shower.

She cut across her arm again, showing him the impossible.

In the fog, Thor reached for words but could not find any adequate to ascribe to his relief. He kissed her in delight for he knew his brother had not lied.

Jane smiled at his joy but could not feel the same. She looked at his kind, trusting eyes and nodded weakly.

It had been real.

She couldn't decide if it was a good thing.

 

*

 

Eternity was a strange concept that Jane had trouble grasping.

Thor assured her it was not strange at all and that they could slowly inch through the time.

It was then that he asked her if he could return to Asgard. The years passed quickly while he was gone.

Now, the sound of rain signaled his return.

Not a thundering pour like the past, but rather a dim pattering on the edge of sound. It was night, but the unnatural rain lit a dull glow from the window.

Water tapped against the windows like a lost stranger in the storm.

Jane gave a wry smile as she looked through the streaking panes from inside their home. What would she say to him? Would he be different?

Five years away was a long time no matter how immortal one was. But she knew that he had promises other than ones for her and so she'd let him go to his princely obligations. Only a heartbeat, he'd assured her.

They had forever, after all.

She tip-toed to their back door to met him. He'd lost lost his keys, no doubt.

Jane opened the door to the rain and waited at the doorway, watching for him.

Thor emerged from the darkness, his armor gleaming the same as when he'd left. It almost shocked her how much it looked like he'd only been away a single day.

"Jane, I have missed you."

His voiced boomed in the dreary night.

She smiled and held the door open for him.

Once inside, she threw her arms around him. Water seeped into her flimsy nightgown but she didn't mind. Five years was too long.

Thor buried his face in her hair, revelling in the fierceness of their embrace.

He pushed a hand through her brown hair, longer than he remembered.

Gray strands occasionally streaked the rich brown.

He frowned.

"Jane, your hair."

"It's nothing," she reassured, drawing him down for a kiss.

"But."

Jane stopped him. "I've just been thinking too much."

He let the matter go despite his unease.

 

*

 

Days bleed into weeks, seasons, years.

Winter, summer, the seasons chased each other like children around a tree.

Their descend into route was so gradual and so pleasant that neither of them felt any urge that things were out of place.

Thor was vacuuming, a task which took him a great deal of patience to complete, when he picked up an old thumb drive from under their couch. Curious, he plugged into their computer, another object he had limited patience for.

Photos popped up on the glaring screen: photos from long ago, of he and Jane in places he barely remembered.

As he clicked through the images, he was struck by how different Jane was.

Her face was rounder, gentler.

It struck him how Jane had aged.

Until now he'd not even noticed the lines around her eyes.

So subtle and gradual was the change that he'd not see it at all. Perhaps he'd seen signs of it, but it had been so incremental that his mind had refused to acknowledge the drifting between days. Now that he looked backwards through time, it was so obvious.

He flipped through the photos, feeling himself breaking with every one.

He should have known. He should have never even asked.

Thor felt anger bubbling within him.

Loki had lied to him.

 

*

 

A spidery pain radiated through Loki's head as Thor slammed him against the sandstone walls.

"I will kill you," Thor roared as he tightened the hold on his brother's neck.

Loki wiped a spot of blood from the corner of his lips and gave him a sly, irreverent smile. It was clear to both of them that Thor could never do such a thing. He swung his fist into Thor's head, causing him to stagger and loosen his grip.

"Why have you done this?" Thor screamed, haggard from their fight.

Darting out of the way, Loki narrowed missed his swinging hammer.

"I only did what you asked," He spat.

"She ages. She ages as though she were still mortal! You have lied!" Thor thundered, bringing his hammer around again.

Loki was faster this time, casting an illusion so the hammer's momentum would pull Thor to the ground. Before Thor could recover, Loki lunged forward from behind and pinned him to the floor.

"I have not lied! You were simply far to eager with greed to think." He pushed down on Thor's throat with his arm.

"Then why—" Thor croaked, struggling to breathe.

"You asked for life, you did not ask for youth."

"What?"

He could barely comprehend.

"You did not ask for youth," Loki repeated.

Thor stopped fighting and laid motionless, his hammer falling with a clatter against cold marble.

"Then—"

Loki released his hold on Thor and stood over his brother cruelly.

"She will grow older and older, until her skin becomes paper and her bones dust, but she will never die. She will beg you for death, for anything but the living prison of her body. And yet nothing can ever end her suffering. That is what you chose for her. That is your bargain."

"The Allfather shall—"

Loki shook his head.

"Even the Allfather cannot help you. Why do you think he refused your request? I suppose it's touching though, that the old man would work so hard to spare you the torment of watching her turn to a living corpse."

Thor glared at his brother, his anger renewed.

"I shall never forgive you."

He reached for his hammer.

Loki only smiled. He didn't care if he could best his brother in this fight.

He'd already won.

 

*

 

Jane had never seen Thor cry before.

Not just a tear or two effortly squeezed out for an appropriate moment, but really cry, with uncontrollable abandon.

He hadn't done it when his mother died, he hadn't done it when she'd miscarried their child, and he hadn't shed a tear when she decided that children was not in the stars for them. Jane held his great shaking form as he sobbed on the stairs in their house, careful to not touch his cuts and wounds.

"I'm sorry," he croaked.

"Shh." She stroked his hair.

She couldn't understand the reason for his breakdown. His apologies were punctuated with incoherent phrases and words like "grow old" and "lies". She gathered that she wouldn't be living forever after all. Frankly, she felt almost relieved.

There was something so distant and unreal about the idea of eternity that she struggled to place its significance, much like the way one cannot understand love without having experienced it.

"It's alright," she told him, "No matter how much time we have, it'll never seem enough. We would have just been borrowing. It would have just been harder in the end."

Thor shook his head and pushed her hand aside.

"Jane," he muttered in between spasming breaths, "I've cursed you."

"How?" she asked gently.

"You—" He didn't know how to tell her. It was too cruel.

She took in his look of pure horror and dread and wondered if it was better to not know.

 

*

 

Thor and Jane never spoke of what happened.

He couldn't bring himself to tell her she would suffer infinite old age, and she knew some things were better left unsaid.

It was though they pretended the deep root digging into the foundation of their life together did not exist.

They were happy enough for a time to pretend, but the crack which began from their silence grew, breaking the solid ground on which they held each other until they could not ignore the distance it had created. There were times when Jane caught him looking at her with the wistful forlorn of a sailor watching his ship sink.

He grew increasingly silent and inward as people began to refer to him as her son.

She knew. She knew on some level what was really wrong but didn't dare see it.

To see would be to allow the nightmare to gain a hold into reality.

On Jane's sixtieth birthday, Thor took her to Asgard. He trembled as he witnessed the beginnings of an arthritic shake in her step as she ascended the citadel steps.

"Jane," he whispered for her to stop.

She turned her graying head to him, squeezing his hand in resigned understanding.

"I have arranged for you to stay here."

Jane gave him a puzzled look, "But what about our house? Our things?"

"We shall procure new things here," he explained gently.

"But I need my things," she insisted, the bitterness of old age in her voice. She yanked her hand from his, agitated with his lack of thought. What of her work? Her friends? To her, his offer whispered of their love's crumbling.

Thor pressed, unable to understand her dissatisfaction.

"You don't need those, Jane. You have me."

She sighed..

"Will I?"

 

*

 

Asgard gleamed at sunset, its waters reflecting the orange blaze of its binary suns onto the citadel.

Jane tucked her white hair behind an ear and watched the fishing ships docking, their metal hulls swaying in the water. It struck her how much metal shaped the culture of Asgard.

They were a race of iron, building with ore rather than stone, unyielding and cold in their strength.

They were men who valued few words and even fewer emotions.

Bright light fell below the water.

She waited for Thor as she always does, despite his visits becoming fewer over time. First it was everyday, then it became once a week as his guilt grew.

The tapping of metal soles announced his presence outside her door.

She did not rise from her seat when he entered for her knees were unreliable these days.

"It's a beautiful evening," she casually commented.

Thor placed a hand on her shoulder.

"How was the treaty ceremony?" She tried to make small talk.

"All went well," he replied, effortfully.

Jane placed a hand on his, feeling the metal pieces of his armor extending to his knuckles.

"That's good to hear."

"You should have been come," he said, not daring to squeeze her fragile bones lest they break.

"They don't want to see an old woman. I know what they all say about us."

He looked down at her paper-thin skin mottled with age and felt as though she were disintegrating within his very grasp and he was powerless to change it. She was like the water they watched, flowing inevitably away into the void.


	3. Somnus

A familiar scuffled told Jane that someone was entering her room.

It had been ages since he'd visited her. Not that she really faulted him.

Jane couldn't stand the sight of her own withering image much less expect him to. She'd insisted they remove the mirror in the room so she wouldn't have to scrutinize her gaunt, worn face.

His steps today were quieter, less forceful than usual.

For a moment, she was unsure if it was someone else or if she was simply losing her hearing.

"I missed you," she said, thin voice creaking with the treachery of old age.

There was no reply.

She sighed as she stared out from the window, watching the same water as she had for many years. Her eyes were failing, but memory made up for the things her eyes could no longer see.

More steps, no words.

"It's alright, Thor. You don't have to say anything."

He rounded her chair and leaned on the steel-framed windowsill, dark and shadowy.

"Hello Jane."

Jane glanced up in surprise. Even without clarity, she knew him by the way his body twisted, fluid like a snake.

"Loki."

"In rare form, I see."

She could hear the snide smirk in his voice.

"Why are you here?" Jane muttered dismissively.

"Pity," he said with false kindness, falling onto one knee as to be at her level. He studied her face, her frail hunched-over body. With a gentle hand, he ran a finger through her long white hair. Jane flinched at his touch, closing her eyes but unable to move away.

"He waits outside your door everyday, trying to summon the courage to enter. Today he has failed again."

"Are you here to taunt me?"

Loki laughed, putting a hand over hers in mock comfort.

"I am merely here to save you from my brother's disappointment."

Jane snorted, pulling her hand away onto her lap.

"Did you get your price?" She refused to let him goad her.

"My price?"

"The great and terrible price you demanded for this."

He looked into her cloudy eyes and replied easily, "Not yet, but you have paid nonetheless."

 

*

 

He returned to find her resting in bed.

Even with her maid's help, Jane had not been able to rise that morning.

"I don't need your pity. Go away," Jane croaked.

"Far from it, lady Jane," he replied cheerfully, "Let us do what you do best: scholarship."

Jane frowned, glancing over at him and faintly making out the dark shape of a book in his hand.

Scraping of metal again stone told of him dragging a chair next to her bed. As he sat, he cracked the book open and began to speak.

"You know, I always failed to understand the literature from Midgard."

"I wasn't that type of scholar," she interrupted him sharply.

Loki tapped the spine of the book. "But that does not mean we cannot begin now. I think you could manage in another 50 years. Now, this T.S. Eliot fellow. Do you know him?"

Jane remained silent, stubbornly staring at the ceiling.

"Wonderful, I shall assume yes."

"No," she interjected, "I never read him."

"How fortunate. I haven't either." He thumbed through the first pages.

Without waiting for her response, he began to read, "April is the cruellest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain."

Jane closed her eyes.

"See, the trouble begins already. Whatever are lilacs?"

"They're flowers," she answered shortly.

"And why would spring be cruel to bring flowers? I always had the impression that flowers were quite nice."

The old woman did not look at him.

"Because it forces life onto something that wishes to stay dead."

 

*

 

"After the torchlight red on sweaty faces. After the frosty silence—"

"Stop," Jane interrupted. "Please stop."

Loki glanced at her pitiful form and feigned surprise. "But we have almost finished!" he exclaimed with glee.

"Please. No more. I just can't take it."

He straightened from his reclined position and closed the book, tossing it aside absently.

"As you command,  _princess_."

Jane sighed, her chest seeming to tremble with the breath. Long past feeling self-conscious and the effort of providing segways to smooth conversations, she spoke her mind without filter.

"Where is Thor? Why does he not come anymore?"

"Thor is at war."

Her brow tensed. "Why is there a war? Asgard has treaties with all the realms."

Loki leaned his elbows on the side of her bed. The weight of him caused the bed to tilt slightly. It was the first motion Jane had felt since her body had begun disintegrating into paralysis.

"Because we are men and we are born to war."

"You are not at war," she said. No words were necessary for him to catch her accusation, her tone was unmistakable.

"It does not amuse me," he returned lightly.

Jane snorted and rolled her eyes.

She did not have to look at him to know his expression. Struggling to get her limbs to cooperate, she reached for him.

Loki watched her hand twitch unproductively like a child watching a drowning animal, still with sick fascination. He could not resolve whether the knot in his stomach was caused by obsession or remorse. After a while, he took her hand in his to still her.

"Will you read to me again?"

He glanced to The Wasteland lying neglected on the table.

"Not that one," she added, as though she could read his mind, "Bring something else. A comedy this time. I want to laugh."

He smirked.

"Funny you should ask. I happen to know a good one."

 

*

 

For Jane, aging was ironically akin to becoming God. Nothing happened while she lived. The room remained still, people occasionally came in and went out, but nothing else. There were no beginnings and no ends. Days tacked onto days without rhyme or reason, interminable, monotonous additions to the serpent of time.

As she lost her physical body piece by piece, her mind also ceased to feel. For without the body, there can be no electrical signals reporting back, no rush of blood to generate emotion. It occurred to her one day as she laid watching the sunrise that she was no longer able to feel anger or sorrow or be moved in any way.

She stared at the colorful sky and thought it beautiful, but only in a cerebral, omniscient way. The beauty incited no awe, no feeling at all. It simply was.

Without the weight of a human body, Jane was transitioning into another type of existence.

It was then that she also rationalized that she could no longer experience love either. Her pituitary gland no longer created the molecules love required. No oxytocin, no adrenaline, no closeness, no infatuation.

Such a realization would have depressed her if she were capable of the sadness required.

Thankfully she was not.

"Jane."

She turned her head to look at his dark shadow. "Have you brought another book?", she asked.

Loki sat down in his usual seat by her bed.

"The Divine Comedy, as you requested."

" But that is not a comedy," she replied dryly.

He looked at the cover with skepticism. "We shall have to see, won't we?"

Jane allowed him to read it regardless of the misnomer. He seeked the lowest form of joy in schadenfreude and she would let him have it. She knew it was like an overly rich cake, it was satisfying in the moment but left one starving immediately after and she was content to let him starve.

"In the midway of this our mortal life, I found me in a gloomy wood..."

Still, she let him go on, questions and all.

Loki snapped the book closed, the resounding clap betraying his displeasure.

"What is wrong? Continue," she said.

"I see no reason if you have nothing to say."

"I have nothing left to say."

He took the book and exited.

 

*

 

Someone slammed Loki against the wall when he exited Jane's room. He felt a hand constricting around his neck, sending a wave of sharp through his body.

He tasted metallic blood in his mouth and laughed.

"So glad to see you as well, brother."

Thor pressed his head harder into the wall as though he craved for nothing more than to crush his skull.

"What are you doing to her?" He demanded, voice full of rage.

Loki savored the anguish in his brother like a fine wine.

"I give what you cannot," he replied in tense blunted terms, "She no longer asks after you, having given up and accepted your cowardice. But you already know that, don't you? You know and you are too terrified and ashamed to act."

Thor roared upon hearing the accusation, more angry at himself than anything else. He released Loki and let him straighten before driving his fist into his brother's smug face. Seeing Loki stumble back did nothing to ease Thor's anger.

"You leave her alone."

"So she can waste away just the same? How tragic."

The divide between them grew ever wider as Thor glared with raw hatred. He gritted his teeth and slammed his fist into the wall, narrowly missing Loki's head.

"You fix this! You fix her!" Thor demanded, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"And with what shall I conveniently do so? She can never be mortal again," Loki goaded, unable to resist.

Thor's hand trembled as he threatened to be more precise with his hammer this time. Mjolnir's worn edge rested a hair from Loki's forehead.

"I don't care. Fix it."

loki pushed the hammer away easily. "Tell me, brother, why is it you are never able to enter? Because you cannot bear to see the almost-life you bargained for?"

"Fix it!" Thor shouted, avoiding the subject altogether.

Loki touched his jaw tenderly and scowled.

"If you wish it, Hel is the only way," he lied, resentment driving him to scheme.

Thor took in a breath but said nothing. The plea in his blue eyes said enough.

"She will be the death of you, brother," Loki hissed.

 

*

 

Loki sat before Jane once more. He watched her with the cold hand of vengeance pressing on his shoulder.

There was something in his lap, but Jane couldn't see well enough to identify it.

"You came back," she said with the ghost of a smile.

He wondered if she'd forgiven him after all this time.

"I have a gift for you," he spoke, gentler and slower than usual.

"I have learned to not accept gifts from you."

He laughed, "But I already know you will accept."

Jane cocked her head to better see him.

"There is an answer to this, Jane. It may not be the one you seek, but it is an answer. You will never be human, and you can never die, but I can give you a path out of this prison that is this decaying form."

"And what will I become instead?" She worried not for her body, but for her soul.

"You won't care once you are there."

It was Jane's turn to laugh. "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

"I speak no lie. I give you my word that I will care for you."

"I don't need your care."

"You shall have it all the same," he assured her.

"I am so very tired, Loki. I have no need for your tricks."

"Then accept."

"Can I at least speak to Thor?"

He shook his head. If she could see clearly, she would have noted the pity he expressed for her. "You shall see him after, as often as you desire."

"But I won't be me, will I?"

Loki bit his tongue, almost feeling guilty of condemning such a perceptive creature. They remained in the silence, thinking about the unsaid.

Finally, Jane let out a long, shuddery breath.

"Why not," she breathed, "Can't be worse than this."

Loki moved something onto her bed as he stood. She felt his cool hand on her forehead. Thoughts of her life, her being rushed through her mind, draining away like storm water. Her youth came to her like watching a foreign film and she wondered how someone so different could be the same person as her.

The dichotomy of past and present selves was like oil and water separating apart. Jane then, Jane now, but what of the Jane to be? What was the air in the glass above the oil?

And the air was so dense, so filled with smell, color, desire. She had never felt need so strongly.

Jane blinked against the richness of the world, eyes sting like they were open for the first time.

She could see a body in the bed, a wrinkled old woman. Her tongue flicked out and she smelled musty death all around, thick like a cloud that lingered and followed. Jane turned her head and looked up at Loki. He was the same as she remembered, all angles and no mercy.

He smiled and reached for her.


	4. Natus Sum

Loki was careful to keep his steps even when he exited the room as to not alarm the great serpent around his neck. He kept a hand on it protectively.

Outside, Thor waited impatiently.

"It'd done," Loki said.

Thor anxiously peered through the door. "Is she—?" He could neither finish the question nor look at Loki.

"She dead. At least have the decency to speak it aloud," Loki lectured.

Letting out a great breath, Thor's head bowed forward, and he had to place a hand on the door frame to steady himself. His broad face was twisted in sorrow and what was unmistakably relief. Hair fell in his eyes as he lumbered forward into the room. Guilt had eaten away at the affection he once had for Jane until all that was left was a wounded core.

The snake opened its mouth, its sharp teeth on display.

Loki ran a hand over its brown scales and shushed it. He shut the door just as Thor fell to his knees with a loud thud. Not one for mourning, he began to walk away from the room. He didn't have to watch Thor to find pleasure in his misery.

"Don't be cruel, Jane," he whispered to the snake, "all love corrodes. It's nothing special."

The snake flicked its tongue out indignantly.

Loki smirked, "It's perfectly fine to be angry. In fact, remember it if you manage to keep nothing else. You are right to hate him for his carelessness. In fact, I'd counsel you to let your fury grow. Perhaps you shall require it one day."

As he walked, the snake coiled its long, lithe body tighter around him.

"Now, we can't keep calling you Jane, can we?" he stated before adding as an afterthought, "You don't seem like a Jane at all."

He thought about it a while, descending the great golden steps out of the citadel.

"I think I'll call you Jormungand, the Midgard Serpent."

The snake slid forward and turned to look at him as if to accept.

Loki smiled upon his creation. He would feed her anger and let it festered into a monstrous being which swallowed all in its path. Periodically, he would remind her of Thor and her need to one day exact the great and terrible price for love gone to waste. Despair turned fury for all the realm to marvel as she sank her teeth into dear Thor.

He need not coach her on Thor's weaknesses. She'd had a lifetime to learn them already.

With a self-satisfied grin, he set her down onto the iron lined path so she could follow on her own. He could almost see his brother falling from the venom of her bite when she slid forth.

Until then, he'd let her rest.

They had the Divine Comedy to read after all.

**Author's Note:**

> In Norse mythology, Jormungand is Loki's snake who eventually kills Thor in Ragnarok.


End file.
